It’s overwhelming how the two priests in whom I’ve confided my current issues never made me feel judged in their answers to my questions.

During last Holy Week’s confession in Malabuyoc, the priest—in reference to my love for and broken heart by someone of the same sex—asked, “Are you aware that both of you will not end up getting married as husband and wife?”

“Of course, I am. And it doesn‘t bother me at all,” I acknowledged the fact that same-sex marriage is not legal in our country, citing my personal opinion that I, too, am not the least bit fond of it.

His next question stunned me. The priest said, “Have you made out with him?”

“No. I haven’t, and honestly, I can live even without it, because my feeling for him is pure love. Nothing carnal,” I told him pointblank, adding that even to God I’ve already admitted that it would not be a priority if ever He answered my prayer, although, of course, human as we are, we’re entitled to our own physiological desires—especially that this guy in question is hot.

In my confession today at the St. Therese of the Child Jesus Parish Church in Lahug, the priest simply said that the guy might have his reasons for calling it quits, reminding me to embrace the fact that, in this world, only ‘change’ is constant. Yet he said something that touched me and caused me to cry rivers in front of him: “You also have to keep your heart open to the possibility that he may come back to you.”

Praise the Lord! And God bless these unself-righteous people, as well as those who have shown compassion towards—and not cast judgment upon—their friend who, during his most despondent days, needs the former more than the latter. Without mincing matters, friendship is not just about giving a dose of reality: It’s about having a certain amount of sensitivity.